


Now Here Comes The End. Wait.

by nummel



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anorexia, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Cigarettes, Drug Abuse, Eating Disorders, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2020-06-03 06:12:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19458037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nummel/pseuds/nummel
Summary: Josh has recently decided that college is just not for him. While dropping out means he's left behind the friends he smokes with, he's found a solution for meeting new people: sit on a park bench at night, each night, and pray a kind stranger wants to talk to him.And Tyler? Sure he'll sit and smoke with Josh. An addiction to nicotine is not what's concerning him most.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this is my first work on here. I'm going to continue writing as best I can and adding chapters as I go. This isn't meant to be light & I understand if you prefer not to read it just from looking at the tags. 
> 
> Thank you for coming here regardless.

He’s got five left – four if he’s only counting the ones left in the pack, and not the first of the day he’s currently lighting. Josh knows that he set a limit of three per day, but who’s there to stop him from breaking his own rules. Tonight, five it is. 

He also knows the more often he smokes by himself, the more likely it is to become an addiction, not just a “bad habit.” In the few months he’d spent in college, smoking became a means of making friends – bumming one off of another, sitting out at night and having all the other smokers flock towards each other, borrowing lighters, deep-seated conversations floating to the surface. Similar to the smoke. 

Josh even met some genuine friends through these interactions, but smoking buddies were nowhere near enough motivation to keep him in college. Why sit through class trying to take notes on communications when he’d rather drum on the desk using the sides of his calloused fingers?

The irony here, he supposed, is that he’s sat on a university bench anyway, still unable to drum without snapping his cigarettes in two. His apartment’s just a few blocks away from this community campus and if he’s being honest, Josh is kind of hoping to meet a friend or two by sticking around. 

Maybe, he thought for just a moment, he could try taking up night classes here – would it be easier than going to classes full time – all the way across the state – living in a dorm, trapped in a monotonous cycle? Well, yes, it would be “easier,” but is it what Josh wanted?

He gave a breathy, low chuckle to himself and mouthed, “Fuck no,” to the fridgid nighttime air, taking a heavy drag before his quiet bubble is interrupted by a small shuffle of footsteps on concrete. He turns his head subtly to see a slight figure approach him. 

The man’s head is down, left hand in one pocket, right holding a lit cigarette near his mouth. He looked up briefly, meant to avoid walking into the bench, and instead made eye contact with Josh. 

Josh let a big, closed lip grin emerge and the stranger gave back a smaller, gentle smile. 

The man stopped where he stood, took a drag from his cigarette, held for a second, blew the smoke out gently, just like his smile, before speaking. 

“Could I borrow one from you? This is all I’ve got for the night.”

And wow, holy shit, yes; this man could take his entire fucking pack and more with a voice that savory. Josh has just encountered a god-sent angel underneath a yellowed, cliché park lamp and he’ll be damned by god himself if he doesn’t share with this guy. 

With no attempt to hide his stare or goofy nod, Josh slid himself to the end of the bench and patted the warmed side next to him, awed by the tender disposition of the man. 

The stranger sat and looked down temporarily, pulling two things from his left pocket. The first item, a small glass mason jar filled with… cigarette butts? And the culprit: a crumpled and compacted box of empty camels. 

Josh attempted to reach into his own pocket, still staring at the man. Brown hair – soft, Josh thought, definitely soft – followed by a beautiful pair of matching eyebrows, a “pixie-esque” nose (if he was trying to be poetic), a sharp-cut jawline, and hollow, unnervingly hollow, cheeks. Possibly made worse by the lighting, the man’s face was bizarrely sunken in, thin, skeletal. And to Josh, that made him even more unnervingly ethereal... 

And he was now watching as Josh’s eyes grazed up and down his face, but neither were really trying to conceal it as they sized the other up. When Josh’s eyes land on the man’s lips, he’s met with a smirk. 

The beautiful, calm, angel of a man then bent over, snubbed his cigarette on the concrete, popped open the lid of the jar, and stuck the butt inside. 

Josh finds himself chuckling louder than earlier, both in awe and fond confusion. He needs to get his name out in the air – start a conversation, get the gorgeous guy to speak again.

“I’m Josh,” he says neatly, making sure their eyes meet, before leaning over to hand the guy his pack. 

“Tyler,” the man rasps – and oh, that voice could slaughter Josh – as dainty fingers pull a cigarette from the box and he eases back into the bench. “And thanks for sharing – even though you’ve only got three left.” Tyler points his new cigarette at the pack knowingly. 

“Yeah,” Josh says, a bit giddy, “But I told myself I’d only smoke three a day. If you actually take another, you’ll be helping me make my goal.” 

His heart ascends to the heavens when Tyler laughs, nearly a giggle, and lets that sound sit in the air for a moment before asking, “You need a lighter?” 

He’s met with a head shake. Tyler pulls out a lighter concealed within that left pocket and cups his hand around the end of his cigarette, letting the flame kiss the tip as he inhales, getting the smoke going. He hands his own lighter to Josh wordlessly, letting his hand intentionally graze the other’s. 

Josh suppresses a shiver at the freezing tips of Tyler’s fingers and nods his own thanks. He then pulls another from his pack, lights it, holds the foreign lighter up to the park lamp and states, “You know white lighters are bad luck?”

Tyler nods and exhales out, “But it’s technically not white. I bought it in a UDF for a dollar; peeled off the orange plastic.”

Josh hands it back to him and puffs his own cigarette. “I think it still counts as white,” he says with conviction, but Tyler just shrugs wordlessly. 

Josh turns his head away from the beautiful man, who’s staring out into nothing, and continues the conversation without pre thought. 

“You know I only smoke at night? Well, guess you wouldn’t know, but now you do. I don’t know, guess it just became my habit from college. I’d get together with my friends after classes when it started to get dark and we’d just smoke and talk – didn’t want to make our clothes smell during the day.” 

This time he only glances over at Tyler, whose eyes are still entranced by one spot in the dark, before blurting out, “Sorry! Maybe you didn’t want to talk. I don’t mean to be so chatty –”

Tyler seems to snap to attention and gives Josh a warm smile. “You haven’t got anything to apologize for, I just got a little stuck in my thoughts. I like your voice; keep talking.”

And Josh settles right back into the bench, trying to contain a big smile. “Yeah, so… Anyway, college for me ended up being a no-go. Moved out of the dorm right before the end of the semester – I was already flunking out. Lucky I’ve got a mom and dad who love me so much – they helped me apartment-hunt back here and even helped me move in. Great folks.

“But god, now I’m just bragging, sorry man –”

And again Tyler stops him. “You don’t need to say sorry. I like listening.” 

He bends down again to scrape the cigarette butt on the ground, opens the jar, drops it in, and Josh goes for the pack in his pocket before Tyler can even ask – anything that’ll let Josh see that smile again. 

“Thanks,” Tyler accepts, that voice so hoarse and alluring it makes the hairs on the back of Josh’s neck raise, “I appreciate you sharing tonight. Your words and your cigarettes.” 

And wow, wow, wow – there’s that smirk again. Josh’s heart picks up, smiling over and over like a fool. 

Tyler lights and breathes in, breathes out, asks, “Do you go here now? With an apartment close by and you being on this campus bench.”

“Oh, no,” Josh responds sheepishly, “No not even community college can save me. I’m actually just here to, uh, meet some new people I guess. Do, uh, do you go here?”

Tyler nods. “But I’m on the verge of dropping out too. Don’t think I can cope with it anymore.”

He gets a hum of understanding from Josh before brushing the ash on his pants and shifting on the bench. “I want to pay you back. If you sit here tomorrow around the same time I can bring you a new pack.”

And while Josh wants to argue against a whole pack in trade for only two cigarettes, how can he refuse another short night with this guy? “Yeah, I’ll be there. It’s a date –” 

And Josh looks horrified at the word slip, feeling all the blood rush right out of his face, but that trademark smirk from Tyler quells the flip flop of his stomach . 

Tyler gets up slowly from the bench, gripping the back like his legs aren’t quite ready to hold him up, and looks right at Josh. “Tomorrow evening, sounds like a plan. I’ll see you.” 

Josh nods dumbly as Tyler collect his things and stuffs them back into his pocket before turning his back to Josh and walking away. He watches Tyler’s slow pace until he gets further and further away before he gets up himself, shaking his pathetic pack of one cigarette before deciding to leave it for tomorrow. 

Without realizing, two ends fall to the ground from his lap – he was too engrossed in Tyler to even remember to flick them onto the ground. Was the other boy collecting them? Should he save these two for him?

Josh shakes his head with a bit of a grimace, because who was Tyler to want a filter coated in Josh’s spit? He grinds them into the concrete with the bottom of his shoe and walks off towards his apartment, pulling his jacket tightly closed as the biting wind picked up. 

He’d sort through the dozens of questions he has for the man and decide on two good ones for tomorrow. He wants to know everything about him, get him talking. The more he gets Tyler to speak, the longer he’ll have an excuse to memorize that fragile face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody, I'm sat outside for a long while and have been writing more and more. Tyler's high. Josh is high, and concerned.

Josh finishes his shift at 7-Eleven by buying a pack of cigarettes with his employee discount – a whopping 10% off. Somewhere in his gut he’s worried Tyler won’t show up, and not only will he be stuck sitting at the bench alone, but he’ll have only one cigarette for the night left. 

He makes his way back to his apartment to change out of his work polo, slipping on a tee shirt, sweater, and his winter coat – begrudgingly giving in to the early cold season. Next comes a beanie and, as he’s pulling it from the top shelf in his closet, a pair of gloves tumble down with it. 

Josh pauses for only a split second before shoving them into his coat pocket. Tyler’s hands were frigid last night, maybe he’d accept company, cigarettes, and a pair of gloves tonight?

Now Josh won’t admit it, but he takes a brisk glance in his bathroom mirror to see if he looks alright – smiling at what he sees and nodding to his own reflection. He’s a pretty good-looking guy, he thinks. 

In his left pocket the gloves are shoved in, and he swipes his new pack of cigarettes from his counter, putting them more delicately into his right. Josh looks over to the clock on his microwave at 8:47pm... Tyler came by around 9:15pm last night? But he doesn’t mind being a little early – he could take his time on the ten minute walk anyway. 

As nippy as yesterday, the wind greets him in uninvited waves. It isn’t cold enough for snow he thinks (though he’s no weather man), but it wouldn’t be a shock to the system if it were to snow within the month. Then where would he go to smoke with Tyler?

As Josh approaches the bench, he does his best to remain neutral and not the least bit upset, nope, not at all, that Tyler hadn’t gotten there early to wait for him. Maybe the guy had night classes or his own job. Maybe he was just an on-time kind of guy. 

Josh pulls out his sole-surviving cigarette from yesterday and lights it, trying to warm himself up a little on the bench. He keeps his eye out from the side Tyler came from yesterday, and he waits, checks his phone (9:03pm), crumples the empty box, and waits. 

He glances down at his phone again a little later (9:17pm) and when his head rises up he spots Tyler walking, swaying, towards him. He gets to the bench and plops right down, enveloping Josh in a hug much bigger than his lanky arms and frame could really manage. 

Josh’s jaw opens in surprise – but hell, of course he doesn’t pull away – until Tyler pushes himself back and stares into Josh’s eyes, hands grasping his shoulders. “I’m so happy you’re here. I’m so happy to be here with you.” He stands back up and his body pitches to the left, barely stopping the movement with his footing. 

Josh bolts from his spot on the bench to put his hands out, but Tyler shakes his head wildly – a grin on his face. He produces two packs of camels from his left coat pocket and hands them both to Josh, who looks a little dumbfounded, but also pulls out his new pack nonetheless.

“Oh let’s trade,” Tyler says enthusiastically, handing Josh the two packs and Josh hands over his one – they’re the same, but it seems to make Tyler happy. 

Josh had a brief moment to get a good look at Tyler’s eyes, and his pupils were tiny; constricted. Before he even gets to voice anything Tyler’s swaying severely and falling to his side, letting out a soft laugh as he lays fully down onto the concrete. Josh, amused, squats down next to him and asks, “What’s your poison this evening?”

Tyler’s smile, like yesterday, is small, but tonight it’s a little more upturned and dopey. “The world is so slow,” he says, drawing his eyebrows in concentration, “I’m going to fall out of my socks. Oh god.”

He makes little effort to check if his feet are still as they should be, but mentions, “I’m not as high as I could be. How are you? I think I’m doing well tonight.”

And Josh smirks at Tyler’s brief monologue, waiting for him to finish before responding. “I think I’m doing pretty alright tonight too – be even better if I had what you’re having.” He adds a laugh at the end, maybe not as sincere as it could be, because he’s now getting a better look at Tyler – who’s hummed once in response and closed his eyes. 

His face is… gorgeous, but jarring. His cheekbones stick out like two adam’s apples and his cheeks look not only sunken but as if the skin is pulled too tight across his bones, dipping in the center, much like the skins stretched over Josh’s own drum kit when it’s too hot and the material caves. His perfect jawline looks less pristine and more painfully sharp now that Josh is getting to see the full picture. 

He glances behind him to Tyler’s legs and it looks like the skinny jean material can’t even cling to his legs if it wanted to – his knees protrude through the holes in the pants and the fabric sags outward, unable to conceal how tiny his legs truly are laying down like this. 

When his eyes drift backup and his worry is starting to increase, Tyler opens his own and seems to make contact into Josh’s soul. The grin returns and he says, almost a whisper as if it’s scandalous, “Reach in my right pocket and pull out the stuff.” And Josh thinks he’s trying to finish it off with a wink, but his eyelids just do a drunken close and reopen. 

So Josh reaches into the right pocket – gently, he tells himself, gentle like Tyler – and draws out a pack of marlboros and the jar containing the other man’s cigarette butts. The body on the ground opens his mouth to gasp, “Oooo” as if Josh has won the lottery. 

He takes a peak in the marlboro box and finds it empty save for one joint and can’t help but ask, “Did you roll one just for me?”

Tyler nods, dopey grin, eyes sealed, and Josh is, quite frankly, touched this man would share his weed with him. They were practically strangers, now weren’t they. 

He takes out the joint and his own lighter, cupping his hand and igniting the end of it; makes an executive decision to join Tyler on the ground – even if it meant choking on the smoke. 

When he takes the first hit, he lets the smoke grasp his lungs and burn along his sternum, exhaling it up into the dark air above them. He turns his head toward Tyler, who has started once again gazing out into one particular spot of nothingness, and decides to ask his first premeditated question. 

“You collect the ends of your cigarettes?”

Tyler doesn’t turn to look at Josh, but he does shake his head no. “I put them in my jar to throw away later. Cigarette filters won’t fertilize the ground. I feel less like a heathen if I don’t I do not… don’t do it.”

Josh knows that sentence tumbled off from the high, and doesn’t push the issue, but instead lets his right cheek lean against the pavement to look over Tyler. 

The man has darkened purple under his eyes and even his eyelids are in matching fashion. His face is sickly pale and the bags of his eyes are mauve. Disturbing. Josh feels airy enough to speak without thinking. “Are you ok?”

Tyler hums, swings his neck towards Josh and lets his head thunk into the concrete. His eyes are starting to glaze over – whether from the high or from something more sinister, Josh isn’t sure. 

“I’m just high,” he slurs a bit, scrunching his eyes shut. “Are you high now?”

Josh lets his brows furrow, his lips turn down, and nods, “Yeah, I’m high now. Good stuff. You look like you’re sick –” but Josh is still lucid enough to flush at this slip. He expects Tyler to retort back. 

Instead, the man with sallow skin, whether from the yellow lighting or something worse… Josh isn’t sure, just murmurs, “Sleepy.”

Josh sits up, the world around him churns, and sticks his hands under Tyler’s armpits, hauling him up into a sitting position. The exhausted man’s head falls back, and Josh tugs it gently forward, rougher than he would a baby but, then again, his high doesn’t give him completely clear common sense. 

“Hello sleepy,” Josh says, with a strange conviction, “I’m hungry. We’re going to 7-Eleven.”

He doesn’t wait for a response – simply hauls Tyler to his feet, but what should be akin to a haul is more like a lift. This man is frighteningly light, eerily hollow. Josh doesn’t think Tyler’s ok. 

He grips tighter to him as he feels Tyler fall limp, stating again, “We’re going to 7-Eleven.” 

And he waits a moment in the silence before Tyler’s able to get a grasp on how to work his feet, before dragging him off towards his workplace. 

The two have left behind: one lighter, three unopened packs of camels, Josh’s empty, crumpled box of camels, Tyler’s empty, crumpled box of marlboros, Josh’s still fuming joint, and Tyler’s jar of cigarette filters. 

They’re both too high to remember looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two take a trip to 7-Eleven & Josh is really starting to realize Tyler isn't ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't got a very nice feeling about my writing anymore. Thank you for continuing to read.

If Josh’s apartment is ten minutes away from the right to campus, and 7-Eleven is ten minutes away from his apartment on the left, it should take the two men around 20 minutes to get there. 

However, this doesn’t seem to be the case.

For Josh, it’s as if an hour has passed – he’s always struggled with understanding time while high, and the endeavor of watching out for Tyler, as he would a sick infant, is scaring him. The man is stumbling over nothing every few paces and his eyes are trained dead forward – then he’s tripping on his feet, tripping over cracks, until his eyes are trained dead down to the ground, and he’s tripping on air again. 

Tripping physically and mentally. 

This is normal for a high, isn’t it? Josh has seen his friends like this numerous times, and even remembers himself tipping in and out of consciousness. But Tyler is tiny. His face, his body, his dainty, boney hands. His lips tinged just a bit blue, his fingertips too. 

Josh has enough memory left to pull the gloves out from his pocket and show them to Tyler, who stops walking entirely to look, unwavering, at the offer. He points a shaky finger to his chest and looks up at Josh, silently asking, “For me?”

He nods and pulls Tyler’s hands towards him, slipping the gloves on like Prince Charming did with Cinderella’s slippers. And wouldn’t Josh get down on his knees and grovel just to kiss this guy’s fucking foot. Even high and sickly, Tyler was stunning. 

Tyler stumbled happily with his new gloves and Josh managed to get an arm around him, trying to keep him both stable and upright. 

Tyler still wasn’t much of a talker even with the weed in his system, which, in all honesty, was disappointing to Josh – he’d be content to sit for hours listening to Tyler wax poetic about landfill if it meant getting to hear that angelic voice more. 

Upon reaching 7-Eleven, both had become lucid enough during the freezing walk to keep their fumbling feet and bodies under control. 

The sliding door opened for them and they were greeted with the low, electric hum of crummy lighting as Josh made a bee-line for the slushie machine – equal parts blue raspberry, cherry, and cola. 

He filled his drink and looked back to see Tyler wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles. 

Now, to be completely honest, Josh didn’t have the munchies – anytime he got high he did get hungry (then again, he was always hungry) but anything he tried to eat would turn to mush in his mouth before he even chewed. Not a pleasant experience for him, to say the least. 

A slushie on the other hand? Now that he could manage. But, since he was being completely honest, he just wanted to come here to get the other man some food. Tyler looked skeletal – he was skeletal. Josh didn’t want to let fear take over and lead him in a million different directions, he just wanted to try and help the best he could. 

On his way over to Tyler, he snagged a bag of plain tortilla chips and two hershey bars, one dark and one milk, just in case. He reached Tyler and tapped him on the shoulder asking, “What do you like? Lemme get you something. Employee discount.” He said the last part with a teethy, cheesy grin, and the skinny man gave back a sweet smile. 

“Those chips are fine. Thank you, I’ll pay you back.”

It hit them both in that moment, the familiarity of the conversation, that they’d forgotten all their things back by the bench. They stared wide-eyed at each other just briefly before laughter overtook them, Josh exclaiming, “Well alright! Looks like we’re road-tripping back.”

They’re on their way back to campus and Josh breaks open his bag of chips, immediately holding it out to Tyler before taking his own. The man grabs one with his gloved fingers and gives a bright smile, but his eyes are dull.

It’s evident that both of them have come down from their highs, and Tyler seems to have reverted to his far out, pensive stares into nothing. His place of choice this time is straight ahead, gaze unwavering even as he lifts the single chip to his mouth and breaks off a measly piece fit for a mouse. 

Josh grabs two from the bag and crunches, takes a sip from his cup, and looks down to notice Tyler’s dropped his chip on the ground. Josh eagerly swings the bag back over to him, but, instead of taking another, the small man just stops walking, face trained blankly at the food on the ground. 

Tyler then looks up, left, right, jogs to a trashcan a few feet away, throws up. His entire frame shakes and his gloves grip the sides of the can as he’s encompassed in a full body shudder, throwing up again. 

Josh is by his side instantaneously, hand on the boy’s back as he chokes and throws up for a third time. While he’s trying his best not to stare, it looks like Tyler hasn’t thrown up any food at all, just empty water and bile. That single bite of chip the only thing in his system.

When his knees buckle and his whole body sags, exhausted, Josh helps lower him to the ground and positions him to lean against the trash can. Tyler’s entire being is shivering, shaking, his face sickly pale and his eyes watering from the endeavor. 

Josh finds himself rubbing up and down the man’s back in an attempt to ease the shakes. “Was it the weed?” he asks dumbly.

Tyler shakes his head painfully slow and looks up at the other man from under his eyelashes. He looks weak, defeated. Josh is scared. 

When Tyler tries to clear his throat, Josh winces at the noise. When Tyler speaks, voice hoarse and hitching, Josh winces again. 

“It just burns now,” Tyler coughs; clarifies, “My throat. Shouldn’t have taken your food. Sorry.”

Josh is dumbfounded over this admonishment. Wasn’t it Tyler just yesterday telling him not to apologize over nothing? So he shakes his head and continues his attempt at soothing the sick man – rubbing his palm up, rubbing his palm down, along Tyler’s back. 

“Can I help you get back home? Do you live near campus?”

Tyler frame is vibrating, unable to fight the cold air and the nausea and Josh fears he’ll choke or throw up again. 

“Got your gloves dirty, sorry…” he rasps, trailing off, letting his head drop forward in utter fatigue. 

Josh once again shakes his head, this time vigorously. “Don’t apologize, I just want to help. Let’s walk towards where you live, yeah? I can help you walk – just tell me which direction, ok? We can do this.”

He knows it’s overkill – knows he’s talking to Tyler like he would a child, but the man’s body is starting to tilt to the side and Josh just knows Tyler’s going to fall asleep soon. Or pass out. Josh shoves that last thought away. 

So he gets up himself before placing his hands gently under Tyler’s armpits, just as he had done earlier when he was high. He pulls him up slowly, but Tyler’s body is limp and once upright, barely, collapses forward, head thunking softly into Josh’s chest – and Josh’s got plenty of brain cells shouting at him to support the skinny man before he falls to the ground. 

Wrapping his arms around the tiny frame in front of him, he takes just a second to decide that carrying Tyler is his best option. 

“Ok, you’re alright,” Josh soothes, maneuvering Tyler until he’s slumped against his back, “We’re gonna do this piggyback style. Just wrap your arms around my neck ok?”

He feels Tyler’s hair brush the back of his neck as the boy nods, and soon two limbs are gently falling over his chest – gloved hands clasped loosely. Josh grabs underneath Tyler’s legs, chastising himself for even thinking about the guy’s probably cute butt right now, and pulls him up. 

Tyler tells him which way to walk, and so he does. They journey in silence, snacks and slurpee abandoned at the trash can and cigarette boxes back at the bench. 

The boy on his back has barely any energy left to mumble directions to Josh ever so often, until he ultimately just falls silent. Even with prompting, Josh can’t get a response from him. 

There’s just enough of a tickle on his neck for him to feel Tyler’s slight breathing, and that alone is what ends up propelling Josh straight to his own apartment, determined to get the sick man inside safely.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler is vulnerable & Josh understands. The two exchange numbers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I've read through my own chapters & must admit not a lot's been going on for plot progression. Is that alright? 
> 
> It's tough being vulnerable enough to share my writing so I'm really appreciative of those who are enjoying my story so far. Thank you!

Josh lives in a studio apartment. He’s got a bed, a couch, and his electric drum set – his other amenities include a miniscule kitchenette and bathroom. 

And what else does he have? A beautiful, sick boy laying atop the covers on his bed – fleece blanket laid over his shivering body. It didn’t feel right to plop Tyler unconscious on the couch, but Josh also didn’t want him to wake under the covers with a fear something had happened between them. 

Other than Tyler’s shoes and gloves, Josh kept everything on him – even his coat. 

He just wanted the man to feel safe. 

Josh has his laptop sat on his outstretched legs as he stays quiet on the couch, volume muted; trying his hardest to get into this episode of Friends with the subtitles on.

Barely an hour goes by before he’s seeing the tiny lump on his bed shift. Josh approaches slowly, seeing the man’s eyes blink open in a haze before they manage to track up towards him. He debates with his brain and body whether or not to lay a gentle hand on Tyler’s forehead, or even stroke his fluffy hair, but refrains. 

Instead, he whispers, “Tyler, it’s Josh.” 

The sleepy figure nods his head, and Josh takes that as a promising sign, “You fell asleep at the park so I brought you back to my home. You’re safe.”

Tyler manages a slight nod again, eyes drooping shut. When he tries to shift his body, a grimace emerges on his lovely face and Josh can’t hold back a croon. 

He lets his hand smooth back the man's soft hair while Tyler tries to move his body again, but he can’t muster much; his eyes squeeze shut and Josh can see his jaw moving as his teeth clench.

“Ty,” Josh lets the nickname slip, “Where are you hurting?”

When the man in the bed lets his eyes open, the two maintain eye contact – had it not been for the duress they were under, it would have felt incredibly intimate to Josh. 

He’d be honored to gaze into Tyler’s eyes for hours, just laying in bed together. Content and safe.

But he wasn’t that lucky. 

Tyler evades his question, swallows, and goes to push himself up onto his elbows, Josh supports his upper back and the man manages to sit upright.

His hand draws out from under the fleece blanket and slowly runs down his face and then through his hair. 

“Did I miss my classes?” His voice is raw and Josh can empathize what it must feel like – with three other siblings in the house, it was a miracle to go even a few weeks without contracting some form of bug or winter-time illness. 

Josh shakes his head and lets his arms dangle to his sides. “It’s just been about an hour,” he tries his best to sound soothing, “It’s around 11pm.”

The boy nods, stares at the blanket enveloping his legs, lets just his fingertips graze the soft material. And then, without prompting, he lets out a chuckle, hoarse as it is, and laments, “Guess this is why they warn you about drugs.”

His empty, glazed eyes, the way the smile instantly drops from his face, the sag of defeat from his entire upper body – Tyler looks like death has just come for his soul. 

And god. Josh has known this boy two days and he’s concerned. He is so fucking concerned. 

They’re both left in silence, at an utter loss for words. 

Does Tyler know Josh doesn’t believe him? Does he know that it’s a weak excuse? Does he know he’s left Josh petrified? Does he know he looks like a skeleton with disconnected joints that Josh has desperately tried to wrap back together with a pathetic fuzz of a blanket?

Does he know Josh is waxing poetic extremes in his head right this moment?

When Tyler shuffles his body to the edge of the bed, Josh lets him. Lets him press his palm against the wall, a silent anchor to pull himself up. 

He watches Tyler stagger to his door, watches him collapse on his ass before trying to pull his shoes on. When Tyler freezes and looks back at Josh, they both wait. Someone’s going to say something. 

It’s Tyler who cracks. 

“I’m sorry for giving you this bad impression of me. I have some things going on I’m trying to fix. Thank you for the help. You’re a really cool guy.”

And then Josh cracks. 

He scurries to his kitchen table and grabs his car keys, meets Tyler at the door who’s slowly making his way upright; shoe’s left untied. 

Josh gives a smile, just like he did two nights ago when he first heard Tyler speak, and pulls open the door. 

“Lemme drive you home. I think you’re a really cool guy too.” 

Tyler doesn’t protest. Doesn’t ask why Josh doesn't just drive to the park or work. Just follows him down the hall to the elevator, trails behind him like a little duckling, lets Josh open the passenger door to his car for him. Gets in. Gives him directions. 

And he sits. 

When they make it to Tyler’s apartment building, Josh stalls the car and puts it in park. The two share a glance and, wordless, Josh pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to Tyler, who hands his phone to Josh. 

They type and then Tyler unbuckles. 

Josh, the gentleman he is, waits for the man to get into the complex before shifting out of park – but first he hears a ping. 

“I still owe you a pack of cigarettes,” reads the text from Tyler. 

In the dark, Josh’s smile is illuminated by the blue emitted from his phone. 

“Hi Ty. Guess we'll be meeting at the bench again.”

Josh waits, sees Tyler's grey bubble start to type. 

His phone pings: 

"It's a date."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler & Josh meet again before heading to Tyler's apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked back at my previous chapters & realized how radically short they were. Wild. I'm working on that. 
> 
> Also you've all been so kind, thank you! I love reading your comments. Seriously. I'm happy there's people enjoying my story because I've been enjoying writing it.

On Fridays, Josh is off from work – these are his “me” days. He lets his body sleep for however long it wants, and then he brews himself a glorious cup of coffee, and concocts some feasible type of breakfast; be it at 10am or 4pm. 

He sits at his small kitchen island and enjoys his meal, with whatever show he’s currently watching on his laptop. 

Then, when he’s felt this routine has eased back his ebb & flow of anxiety, he bangs out the rest of his worries on his electric drum kit. 

What he wouldn’t give for a real one, but he makes do with what’s allowed in an apartment surrounded by grumpy neighbors and cheap walls. 

He plugs in his headphones and lets himself speak through his drums. 

Now Josh is no gentle being when it comes to his music – he’s go big or go home, he’s all or nothing, he’s… some poetic phrase of these things that maybe Tyler could just spin out of thin air. 

The thought of Tyler makes him hone in on his drumming, emphasis on every beat, feeling like he wants to prove to this man that he is incredible. 

And when Josh has finished drumming, he really does feel incredible. 

With his sweaty clothes and hair, he hops right into his car and hits the drive-thru at Taco Bell, getting whatever his eyes and stomach please. Goes home, eats, showers away the anxiety and fears that have built up since his morning relaxation, and goes back to his show – legs outstretched on the couch. 

Josh woke up earlier today, around 11am, and what was the first thing he did? 

Pee? No. 

Brush his teeth? No. 

Make the coffee? Nope. 

He texted Tyler. 

“Hope you’re feeling alright today,” and pressed send. Checked his phone every second of the day, only leaving it be while he took to his drums. 

Who was he to lie and say his anxiety wasn’t through the roof today? It was. Tyler worried him. Tyler not texting back worried him. Tyler not even reading the text worried him. 

Yes, he was concerned for the boy, but god damn did he have a full-blown, heart skipping, nervous sweating, crush. He was damn near infatuated. 

It was 5:37pm now, to the dot, meaning he sent the text to Tyler over six hours ago. Josh kept his episode going as he glanced at his phone and hit the home button, just in case he had somehow missed a text – God, how could he? He’d turned his phone off of silent mode and even added the “vibrate for text” back on just so he wouldn’t miss a single fucking text from Tyler.)

There was just a text from his mom that he began typing a response to –

And then a notification from Tyler. 

Josh’s thumb moved as fast as his wrists move with his drumsticks to get to this fucking message. 

“Hi Josh. Smoke break?”

He tries to respond immediately, but receives a follow up text from Tyler: 

“Thank you. I feel alright.”

Josh doesn’t overthink it, just sends out his text without bothering to hide his enthusiasm. 

“Hey! I’m glad you’re ok! Do you want me to pick you up?”

He cringes at the message. Was it weird to try and meet Tyler at his house after just having drove the sick man there last night? God, Josh kept forgetting he’d only known Tyler for three days – it felt like a lifetime (well, maybe weeks – Josh had to dial back on his hyperboles) with how much the small man had been invading his thoughts. 

Josh does his best to backtrack, “I mean sorry do you just want to meet at the bench–”

Tyler beats him to it before he’s even sent the text:

“Are you interested in meeting at our bench? I just finished classes & I’m still on campus.”

Josh’s heart does a genuine swoop at “our bench.” Their bench? Oh yeah, Josh was whipped. 

He sends an elated “Yes! Be there in 10!” before hopping right up from the couch and sprinting to his bathroom to brush his Taco Bell teeth. Josh doesn’t read into why his teeth need to be clean and his breath needs to be minty. Is chapstick over-kill?

He pulls his coat off the hook by his door and slides his arm through one sleeve while grabbing his keys with the other. 

And then he’s rushing out to his car. 

Campus is significantly busier at 5 than it is in the late evening. It’s a dumb thing for Josh to note, he thinks that should be obvious, but his world feels a little less monotonous and lonely – having only seen his coworkers and family for the past few months – as he’s reminded that so many people his age still exist right by him. 

It’s nice. Comforting. 

Josh is able to park his car on the street right across from the bench, and he’s thankful their spot isn’t in the heart of campus. Not as many people mill about here as they did towards the main buildings and halls. 

And he’s sure Tyler will enjoy the quiet more than the hustle bustle white noise. 

Josh sees the small figure with the dark green coat walking towards the bench just as he gets out of his car, and holds back the urge to call his name. He’s not that far away. Stop being so desperate to get to him. 

He makes a bit of a compromise by slightly jogging to meet Tyler instead. 

They converge at just about the same time, and Josh takes in the boy’s appearance. To his dismay, Tyler looks just as exhausted as yesterday; same pale complexion, purple under the eyes, hollowed cheeks, but also beautiful, dark eyebrows, duck-fluff-esque hair, and that tiny, kissable smile. 

Tyler was still Tyler regardless of his pain. 

And he’s the first to sit, legs clearly exhausted as he lets his body deflate against the wood. 

Josh sits down with him and they both reach into their pockets. Tyler hands a fresh pack to Josh, who accepts it and goes right for the plastic while Tyler pulls out his own pack. 

They light up and Tyler breaks the silence, “Went to 7-Eleven to get these. Thought maybe I’d see you there.”

He turns to Josh and gives a grin, and wow does Josh’s soul ascend. He laughs in response, “Oh! Yeah, I actually don’t work on Fridays. My one day of reprieve.”

Tyler nods, and they go back to quiet. And while Josh appreciates the calm of the air, he just wants to keep Tyler talking. Wants to hear about his life, his thoughts, the things he’s trying to fix. 

Josh just wants to know Tyler, so he asks, “How were classes?”

The man exhales and shakes his head, pursing his lips. 

“Couldn’t tell you. Passed out 10 minutes into my first lecture. Lurked like a zombie through the rest.”

Before Josh can comment, Tyler continues, “This was my last day. I called my parents first thing this morning – told them I can’t take it. I just can’t do it.”

Tyler doesn’t seem to grieve the loss of his enrollment, but more the fact he was unable to keep up. Josh can guess just by Tyler’s tone and the fall of his facial features that he’s disappointed in himself. 

So he goes to reassure this beautiful, tired, defeated boy that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with dropping out – hell, Josh did the same thing and maybe he hasn’t got the picture perfect life, but he’d say he’s doing pretty alright – but Tyler beats him to it once again. 

“Thank you for asking about me this morning; I think I’m feeling a little down. Do you want to come back to my apartment and hang around?”

Josh doesn’t choke on his inhale, but he can just picture it from one of those movies where a character makes a shocking announcement while another is drinking, and either water spews everywhere or the guy chokes himself out. 

Anyways, Josh prides himself in remaining composed, calmly responding, “Absolutely. It’s getting too chilly out here.”

He bends over to snub his cigarette, before he verbally startles, “Oh! Did you get your jar back?”

Tyler bends & snubs his own before shaking his head – looks back over at Josh and gestures for him to get up. 

“Do you mind walking to find a trash can?” 

Now Josh shakes his head, “Just drove past one down the street. Let’s do it.”

The two make their way up off the bench, and Josh can tell it’s an ordeal just for Tyler to convince his body it’s time to move again. His hands tremble as he stands, but Josh gives him credit for neither swaying or letting his feet stumble. 

A silent walk down the pavement and they chuck their filters into the can. When they’re just about at Josh’s car, Tyler quips, “Only one today? You trying to quit?”

Josh, of course, laughs out loud – the question really didn’t warrant a reaction of this caliber, but fuck, Tyler’s a fucking light of poetry and one liners & things that just get Josh’s heart slamming around with the same intensity used to soar high on a trampoline. 

“Honestly, I don’t really care anymore. Maybe we should quit together –” Josh pales at his admonishment. Without this he’d have no fucking excuse to just ring up Tyler for a cigarette booty call. 

Tyler grins, jokes with him, “Do you want to cancel our meetings already? Is there someone else you wanna warm the bench with?”

Josh is shaking his head rapidly, laugh bordering on nervousness, “No! No. We’ll still be stuck together. We have to keep each other accountable, right?”

Tyler gives him a knowing smirk as he pulls the passenger door open and climbs in. 

Josh gets in the drivers side and bangs his head on the rim, slipping into his seat with a loud, “Fuck!”

He may be making a fool of himself, but hearing Tyler first coo and ask if he’s alright, followed by teasing once he knows Josh hasn’t cracked open his skull… he just knows.

God. Josh is w-h-i-p-p-e-d. 

Tyler gives him directions home, but Josh surprises him first with a detour. They pop into Michael’s and Tyler buys himself a new little mason jar, but they both crack jokes from the shelf to the check-out to the car that he won’t need it anymore if they’re quitting. 

In the car, they make a list of what Tyler could use it for instead. Other than Tyler murmuring directions for Josh during the trip, the two just keep going and going. 

Josh says, “Teeth.”

Tyler responds, witty and again with a stunning smirk, “I’ve lost all mine – they’d have to be someone else’s.”

Except Josh shouldn't have seen the smirk – keep your eyes on the fucking road Josh, he chastises himself. Fuck. Tyler’s radiant but he’s distracting. Keep him safe. Holy fuck. 

The two manage one brief devious look and laugh before Josh’s focus is back on the road. 

“Bugs.”

“Jesus christ no.”

“Jelly beans?”

“Josh, those are meant to be a surprise. Easter eggs are opaque for a reason. Weed?”

“Tyler,” Josh mocks, copying his tone which gets a beautiful laugh from the other man, “Weed is meant to be a secret! There’s a reason grinders are opaque.”

“Okay but ziplock baggies are transparent.”

“But we said no smoking,” Josh reminds him, with an air of seriousness that has Tyler nodding in agreement. 

“Ok, fine,” Tyler admits as they slow towards his complex, “We’ll make a list and vote. Pros and cons too.”

Josh chuckles and parks in the designated lot, looks over at Tyler who’s already looking over at him. The gaze they hold is intimate. Josh could lean over. 

He doesn’t. Tyler breaks eye contact first, grins and gets out of the car. Josh follows suit and the two make their way up to Tyler’s apartment. 

As cliché as it is, Tyler’s room is so Tyler. 

The walls are white and the floors are light wood, but there’s really only a peak of it hidden underneath a massive black rug. 

It looks soft and gentle on your feet – Josh thought this admonishment was silly, but that’s where his mind went. The space here was gentle, truly, just like Tyler. 

He takes in the appearance of it all as Tyler’s shrugging off his coat. 

Similar to Josh’s own studio apartment, Tyler has a small living room and kitchenette. The living room’s furnished with a black two person couch and a knee-high coffee table, but he glances over that to see a an electric keyboard pressed up against the far wall, a Donnie Darko poster hanging over it. 

Oh god. He plays piano? Josh is done for. 

Tyler sees him looking and gives a shy smile. “Just a hobby, Mozart would roll in his grave if he heard how I play.”

Josh wants to dispute this, but his time with Tyler forewarns him that this self-deprecation is something Tyler truly believes.

So instead, he goes, “Hey, I play the drums. Can’t say I’m conventional by any means. Just because you play music different than the norm doesn’t mean it can’t be good.”

They hold that intimate fucking gaze again as Tyler stares at him in awe. Has no one ever supported his music before? 

Tyler nods without response – had he read Josh’s thoughts? – gestures for Josh to hang up his coat as he goes to grab a piece of paper from a neatly stacked pile on the coffee table, red pen also in hand. 

The two just take their seats at the small island counter before Josh realizes, “Oh shit, I only had two tacos for dinner. Damn I'm hungry.”

Tyler’s got a look of surprise on his face as if he’s forgotten about dinner too. And then his face turns blank, back to that empty stare Josh saw in him the first night they met.

“I haven’t got much in the house right now. Kept putting off groceries to keep up with classes – guess that’s a thing of the past." 

Josh tries not to let his heart break. He knows these signs. 

But Josh can’t bring himself to broach the topic. It’s horrible, it’s selfish, it’s turning a bling eye, but Josh isn’t ready to scare off Tyler. 

It hurts Josh to keep up a nonchalant act. Pretend like he doesn’t see. But he finds it in him to go, “Ty! It’s not your job to feed me,” cue in a forced, strained laugh, “I should have driven us through Taco Bell again or something. It’s my bad! Lemme take you to the grocery store and you can get your shopping in – two in one.”

Tyler doesn’t fight this. Josh is shocked.

“Man, you rock,” he says, “You’re really great.”

And just like that Tyler is getting up from the counter and going to slip his coat and shoes back on, while Josh floats forward and does the same. 

Maybe Josh is wrong. He wants to be wrong. 

Tyler’s already opening his door and holding it for Josh as the man struggles to get his coat on. He’s wrapped up in his head because he doesn’t think he knows what’s going on anymore. 

He just doesn’t know. 

They make it to Josh’s car, he shifts into drive, the two head to the store in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stick around folks.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> grocery store. say no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey how are you. been a bit. hope you all have stuck around. 
> 
> thank you as always.

“Beans.”

Josh turns to look at Tyler while stopped at a red light. He looks serious. 

“Is that on your shopping list?” Josh chuckled, eyes pulling back front as the light turned green. 

“No. I could keep beans in my jar.”

“Oh! Like Jack and The Beanstalk?” He’s picturing Tyler on a medieval bridge trading his father’s donkey to a ratty gnome who’s handing him over a palm full of magic nothings. 

Tyler looks cute in tights and a cloak. 

“Yes,” Tyler says with conviction, but he breaks demeanor and laughs when Josh does. “I could put dirt in the bottom and let the beans sprout roots.”

“Is that really how they grow?” Josh would pull up google if he wasn’t dead-set on his driving. Having Tyler in the car was like having the Queen’s diamond strapped in next to him. 

Scratch that. Tyler is immensely better than some shitty old diamond. 

Josh takes Tyler to Kroger & watches him pick up a basket and stand still. He does his best not to monitor him, doesn’t want to intrude. Doesn’t want Tyler to think something’s wrong. 

Or more, doesn’t want Tyler to think that Josh thinks something’s wrong. 

Tyler doesn’t ask him to leave or grab his pizzas, so the two shuffle around together. 

They’re at produce. And Tyler’s just staring. He’s zoned out, empty gaze trained on the misters spraying over the carrots. 

“What’s your favorite veggie, Josh?” He isn’t looking at him, but his eyebrows furrow. 

“Um, You know…” Josh is untimely nervous: is he making an important decision for Tyler right now? “I like a lot of them.”

That’s the wrong answer, he berates himself instantly. Tyler’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and he still won’t fucking look at Josh. 

So he recovers instantly, perking up and saying, “Oh! You know what? I love cucumbers. They’re great with hummus or like some chip dips and the crunch sound they make is great.”

Josh is absolutely pulling this out of his ass – he rarely eats vegetables, let alone a stupid cucumber. Maybe Tyler’s quiet stare at the carrots had him rushing to find an answer that wouldn’t make the small boy freeze in his tracks. 

They step forward in tandem towards the cucumbers and Tyler picks one out. Very tiny. 

That’s when he says, “I’m probably going to wander a bit and see what looks good. Why don’t you go grab some dinner?”

Josh is nodding with a weird jerk and then he’s heading away towards the frozen foods section; picking up his pizza in a matter of moments. 

He lurks up the aisles and peeks to see where Tyler has gone, finds him standing still in front of the shelves stocked with crackers. Josh keeps his distance – he’s treating Tyler like a wild deer. He knows it. He’s just curious. And nervous. 

Worried. 

Ty, with his delicate fingers and thin wrist, takes a box from the shelf above his head and turns it around. Inspects and reads. Puts it back. 

Skims his fingers over another, picks it up, inspects, puts it back. Moves over to the granola bars section.

Stares. 

Josh doesn’t want to spook him or spy any longer, so he pretends to make his way over as if he hadn’t previously seen Tyler. 

He gets a smile from the boy before he goes back to looking blankly at the boxes in front of him. Josh thinks the choices are overwhelming him. 

Being in this grocery store is an endeavor for Tyler. He can see it on the man’s face. He can see it in the way he moves so slow and unsure and the frown on his face and his bleeding bottom lip. 

“I need help.”

This catches Josh in complete surprise, he could’ve choked on his own spit. He sputters out, “Yeah, yeah! Anything Ty.”

He stares ahead; just refuses to make eye contact with Josh. It hurts his heart. 

Tyler takes in a breath, exhales. Does it again. Mumbles, “What do you eat when your stomach hurts.”

Josh asks gently if he can hold his basket and drop in some things. Tyler just nods. 

Microwave rice, salt-free crackers, plain rice cakes, wheat thins – he glances at the man as if to ask, “Can I keep going?”

It’s the first time Tyler looks up at him – albeit so brief they can barely even meet eyes – and nods. 

Cranberry juice, vegetable soup, tortillas, cheerios. 

Tyler wanders wordlessly and comes back with green tea; his hands tremble as he puts his one chosen item in the basket. 

The two walk to the counter and Josh unloads everything onto the conveyor belt. Tyler doesn’t try to stop him. 

“I’ll pay for your pizza,” Tyler murmurs as Josh is going for the divider. For some reason, Josh doesn’t fight it. 

Tyler looks like he’s going to buckle under the weight of his two bags and Josh tries to grab them from him – the second they exit those sliding doors, Tyler is laughing and looking at Josh saying, “No I’m strong! I’ve got this.”

Josh drops his jaw and then he laughs because he needs to. Needs to make it normal. Needs Tyler to know it’s ok. 

He drives them back to Tyler’s. 

Josh is asking if he can use the oven and Tyler’s nodding telling him to take whatever he wants. 

With his pizza plopped in the oven and the grocery bags stacked on the counter, the two begin to unload. 

Josh doesn’t really know what he’s doing or where things go and he can’t ask Tyler because he’s starting to space out again when he brings out the box of wheat thins and scans the words written. 

He turns to humor, poking Tyler on his shoulder and Tyler’s head is shooting back up to look at Josh as if he’d forgotten the other man was there. 

“I can put the groceries away. Just sit at my counter, if you want. Keep me company?” Tyler’s teasing him and Josh is so thankful some of his beautiful smile is starting to return. 

Of course he complies. But Tyler’s reaching up to put things away and bending down to put things away and his back is to Josh and Josh is staring. 

Tyler’s legs are just bones wrapped up in his black jeans. There’s nothing to his thighs, his knees, his ankles are sharp and stark and scarily thin poking out from his socks. 

His spine isn’t visible from the thickness of his sweater, but above the collar line the disks are protruding and leading up to his neck like dinosaurs spikes. 

Josh could bend this boy over his knee and snap him in half. 

That’s not what he wants his mind to go to when he thinks about bending Tyler over his knee. 

The man doesn't have a third eye at the back of his head, but he does sense Josh’s stare looming over him - he does a quick glance over his shoulder and grins before getting back to his unpacking. 

Josh’s smile back is tight-lipped and then he just keeps staring.

He and Ty try to decide on a movie while Josh is indulging on his pizza; he's already stretched out on the couch and the other boy is in the kitchen opening and closing the same two cabinets. 

Josh takes a bite of his slice and a glance to the right where Tyler’s piano is situated - above it he's reminded of the Donnie Darko poster. 

“Ty, is that your favorite movie?” He points to the poster as Tyler looks up.

God, what a great grin spreading on the man’s face.

“Oh my god! Yes! Have you ever seen it?”

Josh shakes his head and the way Tyler’s entire being lights up is like a fucking Christmas tree - twinkling fairy lights and popcorn wreaths and a beautiful angel perched on the top. Maybe Tyler is just the angel on top. Josh drops the metaphor.

Tyler’s just really fucking incredible. 

“Ok can we watch it tonight? Jake Gyllenhaal is so hot and it's set in October so it's perfect for the season. I dressed up as him last Halloween with his skeleton onesie and grey sweater – everyone thought I was just a skeleton but when I told them they thought it was a cool idea.”

Tyler is beaming at Josh and now Josh is smiling just as wide. Tyler being so emphatic and passionate over something has Josh’s heart doing ridiculous jumps like feet in flip-flops and the butterflies in his stomach are acting like alien and are about to split him wide open. 

Josh scoots himself over on the couch and pulls the pizza onto his lap while the other man shuffles some things around on his TV shelf before pulling out the DVD.

“This movie was released in 2001 so don't tease me about having a physical copy. I can't hold this baby in my arms with amazon or iTunes. I really gotta know it's there.”

Tyler's laughing and so is Josh, but he hasn't forgotten what this night is about. 

“Ty, I wanna watch this thing! Grab your dinner and get over here.” He's firm now and nervous he's overstepping, but Tyler’s still smiling and making his way back to the kitchen.

A bag of brown rice is torn open and set in the microwave for 90 seconds; he grabs a bowl and a spoon and watches the bag turn, waits for the timer, plucks out the pouch, pours it, and he's on the couch with Josh.

The movie starts. 

Watching Tyler watch his favorite movie is like… Josh hasn't even got a proper simile to describe it. Tyler hasn't even glanced over once at Josh - he's that certain the other man will love it.

And he's right. Between his pizza, Tyler’s knee rubbing his, Tyler taking teeny tiny bits of his rice, and the movie itself, Josh has just settled into one of the best nights of his life. 

When Frank the bunny first appears on the screen, he's nudging Tyler and whispering, “I'm gonna be him for Halloween.” And the giggle, honest to god, that Tyler responds with is the cherry on top of the whip cream on top of the sprinkles on top of the chocolate syrup on top of the ice cream. 

Beautiful. Delicious. Josh wants more and more. 

Sat next to this poetic, and so damn gorgeous, boy, Josh is making connections between Tyler and his favorite film.

Donnie is cynical, quiet, serious, beautiful… so is Tyler. They've got dark hair and dark eyes and a look to their tired faces that are mirrored in some sort of sickening pain and he's starting to wonder if Tyler has ever seen his own Frank in real life.

Josh does his damn best not to linger on it.

The movie continues.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler & Josh. The end of October to the start of December. 
> 
> An incredibly short update, but an update regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a present for alolime – your comments have not gone unnoticed. i decided id come back to writing this story because of you. 
> 
> this chapter is very brief to make up for lost time. im posting the next chapter in another hour. i mean it. 
> 
> since the last time i posted i actually did quit smoking cigarettes which is. pretty good. 
> 
> welcome back to anyone coming here & and to all the others who have commented & continue to comment on my work: thank you. i feel like it's still worth writing if there are people still enjoying reading. i hope updating this properly conveys my gratitude for you all

Turns out their plan to quit smoking only involved cigarettes. Weed was not part of the deal. 

Tyler and Josh continued to hang out and talk and share blunts and watch movies until, eventually, the two were together nearly everyday. 

Sometimes Tyler would come to visit Josh during his shifts at 7-11 – unprompted. So Josh’s heart began to do a small leap every single time the door dinged open. His eyes were always searching for Tyler. 

As Halloween approached, the two created a list of horror films to watch leading up to the holiday. Each night – for a week straight – they watched two films a night. They’d get high and hit play and Tyler would tuck himself into Josh and squeeze his hand fiercely from fear. 

Josh’s hectic heartbeat was just from the scary demons in the movies. Right. 

Halloween came and went. The two ignored any invitations to parties and instead spent the night at Josh’s baked out of their minds on some strand called blue cheese. 

The two ended up on the carpet. Josh eventually found the ability to roll closer to Tyler, just to lay a hand on his back. Just to make sure he was ok. 

He felt spine and ribs and shoulder blades but also steady breathing. 

They managed to hit some sort of clarity four hours later. Tyler stayed for the night. 

Hanging out and watching movies and smoking weed crept into sitting closer on the couch sober and taking naps in each other's beds. 

Josh went home to his parents house for Thanksgiving, and Tyler went home to his. 

And December hit. Snow started. Weather so fiercely cold their hands turned purple even through their gloves. 

Tyler still wore Josh’s gloves. 

And unbelievably, unbearably, Josh watched Tyler get thinner.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh needs to talk to Tyler. His anxiety prevents that from happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told you id put up this second new chapter. happy holidays to those who celebrate. it's christmas
> 
> i think im all mixed up in my feelings but partly glad i started writing again
> 
> i hope you like it.

Josh is washing his hands in Tyler’s bathroom and his eyes are waging the same fucking war they do every time he’s in here. 

Don’t even glance at the scale under Tyler’s sink. Stare at the scale under Tyler’s sink. Don’t even glance. Stare. Look away. 

Josh does what he can to keep his eyes trained on himself in the mirror instead, but then his brain starts to wage another war every time he’s in here too. 

You should talk to Tyler. Don’t talk to Tyler. 

Talk. Don’t talk. 

Bring it up – ask him. Don’t ask him. 

Stay silent. 

He stares at himself in the mirror and pictures Tyler. 

Tyler staring at himself in the mirror. Scowling. Holding his ribs. Rubbing his eyes. Boney knuckles scraping boney cheekbones. Grabbing at his skin, scratching viciously across his stomach –

Josh’s own eyes haze over at the vivid (unreal, he reminds himself, unreal) reflection of his friend and his eyes get misty. Every fucking time. 

The mirror seems to fog up as if he’s taken a hot shower. But instead of wiping steam off the mirror he’s wiping water from his eyes. 

He finds himself rushing to shut the lights off before he’s even exited. 

Tyler’s laying across the couch drowsily while the TV’s playing some mindless show on Adult Swim. Josh walks over to him and Tyler lifts his head on reflex – like a dog rolling over for a belly scratch. 

Josh is conditioned to slide right next to Tyler and let the small man lay his head back down on his lap. Sometimes he just places his hand on Tyler’s head and rubs slowly. Other times he plays with his hair. 

Regardless he silently comforts the boy in some way. Tyler probably thinks of it as some good ole genuine friend contact (come on, the guy loves head rubs and back rubs and any kind of gentle touch and shit, dear god, he’s so cute) but Josh thinks of them as soothing little mantras like “it’ll be ok” or “I’m here for you” or “Please be ok.”

Tyler’s clearly starting to drift. His eyelashes are dusting his cheekbones, his head is feeling heavier in Josh’s lap, his breathing is starting to even out and soften. 

And no matter how tender the moment, and no matter how many times this has happened, Josh starts to think. 

Overthink. Think way too much. 

With time, over the brief few months they’ve known each other, Josh finds himself sinking deeper into desperation. 

He finds himself running the facts through his head again again again until he’s now lying awake every night thinking and thinking and his thoughts are so big and loud now he feels as if he can’t even keep his eyes closed anymore. 

His brain wants to burst right through. Pop out his eyes and push them straight through his eyelids. 

Because the facts are there. 

Tyler doesn’t eat. 

Sometimes he tries to, but Josh just knows – and god he wished he didn’t – that Tyler. Just. Can’t. 

Tyler stares at the back of boxes and cooks plain brown rice and eats a forkful that takes him minutes to get through and cooks plain brown rice and leaves it untouched and accepts a single chip or pretzel or piece of popcorn while he’s high. Throws up moments later. 

From what Josh can tell, that part isn’t on purpose. But maybe it’s only wishful, ignorant thinking. 

Tyler shakes under mounds of blankets and his face goes white when he stands up too fast and he grabs the counter when he thinks Josh isn’t looking. 

Grabs the counter because his legs are about to give out. Thinks Josh isn’t looking. 

Of course Josh is looking. 

Tyler’s fingers are thin and the swells of his knuckles bulge out. His cheekbones protrude, his spine protrudes, his ribs protrude, his collar bones, his shoulder blades, his this and that and this and that. 

His face is sunken. Strands of his hair come through Josh’s fingers and detach from his skull. Like pulling a fucking carrot from the ground. 

Josh has never seen Tyler’s legs or arms exposed. Josh has barely seen Tyler’s legs or arms at all. 

Where are they in all that fabric?

He gets glimpses of pointy elbows through his long sleeves and ankle bones through his red socks. He makes out the bumps of his knees through his jeans. 

His clothes are wrapped around what? Nothing. Empty Christmas presents. 

But. 

Tyler has soft hair. And long eyelashes. And the voice of an angel. 

(And Josh said that to Tyler once when they were high. And Tyler loves to tease him about it.) 

And humor that hits Josh straight in the funny bone. And a mischievous wink and a mischievous smirk and a genuine smile. 

And a love for movies and an imagination that rivals Josh’s own. 

And he speaks in some profound poetic language that slips off his tongue naturally and Josh wants to get on his knees and grovel to hear more and more and more. 

And Tyler likes being with Josh. 

And Tyler tells Josh this when he’s high. And he also tells Josh this when he’s sober. 

And Josh… well Josh is torn. Because he doesn’t want to sacrifice this friendship by telling Tyler he’s worried about him or that he wants to know why he owns a scale. And he definitely doesn’t want to risk spilling out every little detail he’s catalogued about Tyler up until this point. 

Because dear god Josh is a creature strung tight like his drum heads by nerves and anxiety and his stomach is jumping up to try and touch his throat like kids used to jump and try to touch the door frame at his middle school. 

But Josh also wonders if he’s also sacrificing this friendship by staying quiet. He thinks if Tyler is going to continue to drop pound after pound, then in merely weeks Josh is going to be sitting on his own couch with a pile of bones in his lap. 

Intrusively, his mind supplies an image of him stroking the top of a bare skull and –

Josh physically recoils and jerks his hand from Tyler’s head, flexing his fingers in and out to try and rid them of the phantom sensation. 

From the movement, Tyler shifts. Sighs. 

Josh is unsure whether or not he’s actually fallen asleep. 

Albeit real or not, petting Tyler's skull – literal naked, exposed, lifeless bone – ups the tempo of his heart too fast for him to even try to drum out. 

His brain starts to supply him with phrases. They repeat and they deviate and they repeat again and start to pile up over the thought of Tyler’s bones – except the phrases are see-through so he can see through them into the bottom of the pile, where Tyler’s skeleton remains. 

“Can we talk? Can we talk? Tyler, can we talk?”

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hey Ty, can I ask you something?”

“Hey Ty, I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

“Ty, is it ok if I ask you something? Are you comfortable if I ask you something? Is it alright if I ask you something?”

His brain is drumming too fucking fast and the thoughts and phrases and questions are piling and they’re piling and the the phantom sensation is still touching his hand and he’s trying to flex his fingers and his brain is still going and –

God. Josh doesn’t think he’s breathing. Is he breathing? 

He can’t tell if he’s breathing. Should he be able to hear if he’s breathing because he can’t hear anything just a dial tone is playing now it’s pure static in his ears is his vision getting spotty the TV looks too grey his face is feeling a little flushed now he thinks he’s sweating through his shirt –

“Josh. Josh? Can I help?”

Josh is allowed to register the fact that Tyler has sat up and is leaning against his side. 

He thinks Tyler spoke. 

Josh takes a horrific, loud gasp of air and feels his chest expand. He waits. Releases his breath. 

Takes another long breath in. Holds. Exhales out. 

God. He’s ok. 

Tyler sits quietly next to him and rubs his shoulder gently. Josh’s lungs work. 

He’s able to identify the touch of Tyler’s hand and tries to lean into it – ends up throwing himself into Tyler’s arms in another desperate gasp stemming from fear.

And Tyler, bless him, accommodates as much of Josh’s body as he can into a firm embrace. Starts to rub up and down his back. Motion is slow. Steady.

Josh’s eyes have definitely teared up but he hasn’t cried. That’s a positive trait Josh now clings to. 

He takes his time in Tyler’s arms as it becomes clear the smaller boy refuses to pull away until Josh does. So Josh doesn’t try to rush himself. 

When Josh does, eventually, pull back, he works at a turtle’s pace. Tyler doesn’t go to move away from him. Stays put where he is. 

Josh works his hands over his eyes to be sure there are no tears. There aren’t. He’s still surprised. 

They sit in silence for a beat or two, looking into each other’s eyes. Josh holds Tyler’s gaze for safety. Empathy has set up camp in the smaller man’s eyes. 

“Have you had panic attacks before?” Tyler asks. 

Josh nods. Deep breath. Needs to double check his lungs are still with him. 

Exhale out. 

“I don’t think that was a panic attack. I think it was just my anxiety.” Josh’s voice wobbles. 

Josh feels vulnerable to have admitted that. 

Tyler nods, looks down at the couch cushions. Says, “I felt your whole body go rigid. Can I do something to help right now?”

“No,” Josh shakes his head, “I’m ok. I thought maybe I was having a panic attack at first, but I didn’t feel like I was hyperventilating. I just felt like my entire chest was pulled tight. I’m ok now. I can tell I’m breathing.”

Tyler nods again and they both sit in silence. 

Then Josh clears his throat and swallows. 

Takes a second before asking, “Is it ok… Is it ok if I lay down in your bed?”

Tyler doesn’t even respond, just takes Josh’s hand. And the two stand, walk the few feet to his bed, and collapse on top of the covers. 

Josh rolls over to be close to Tyler and Tyler opens up his arms for him again. Josh tucks himself into them. 

Tyler’s bony shoulder digs into the side of Josh’s head.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh finally speaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 10ish pm here so it's dark & ive got a lemon sheet mask on and the ocean's just doing its thing. im on spring break & i felt compelled to continue.

It’s still dark when Josh wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in: wrapped in Tyler’s arms. There’s something sharp pressing into his temple and he shifts minutely to press his head to Tyler’s chest, rather than his pointy shoulder. 

Ty’s eyes open and Josh stares into them. Pulls away just enough for the two to be face to face. 

He doesn’t actually want to right now, but the empty space between them is so thin that he would have no trouble leaning forward. But it isn’t the time or place and Josh thinks he’d start to sob if he went through with it. 

“How are you feeling?” Tyler whispers. 

“I’m better now,” Josh whispers back. 

Tyler nods. There’s comfortable silence. 

Josh is exhausted, his brain feels disconnected, he opens his mouth without any disruptions from his mind. 

“How are you feeling?” He repeats to Tyler. 

The man looks surprised – eyebrows raise and his mouth opens just the tiniest bit. 

Still, he responds, “I’m fine, thank you.”

Josh’s turn to nod. Comfortable silence. 

“Do you… maybe want to talk about what happened?” Tyler asks gently. He reaches out his hand to push aside a piece of hair that was poking into Josh’s eye. 

“I’m worried about you,” Josh blurts out. 

His voice sounds huge and booming in the quiet apartment. He takes in a tearful breath, and he can’t look at Tyler but suddenly everything is leaking out from his mind and pouring out of his mouth. 

God. He can’t do it anymore. 

“I’m so worried about you Tyler. I don’t know how to control it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop thinking about it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to help.”

Tyler sounds nervous when he asks, nearly breathless, “About what?”

“You don’t eat!” Josh shouts and sits up. It’s aggressive and deafening and now Josh has really started to cry. 

“I thought talking about it would make you not want to talk to me, but I can’t just pretend anymore because I already think that you know that I know.

“But I think about it always, Ty. I can’t stop because it’s become such a big part of you in my mind and I feel like smashing your scale every time I’m in your bathroom! I want to shake you and beg you to talk to me. Every time you stand up from the couch I’m on high alert and ready to catch you if you pass out.”

Josh is breathing ragged. He’s staring at Tyler’s chest rather than his face. 

“I can see how hard it is for you to choose what to eat. It hurts and it aches watching you opening and closing cabinets over and over. Staring into them. Pulling out the same few boxes every time and studying them like there’s any possible way something could’ve changed in the ingredients. 

“I watch your hands trembling when you pack a bowl and when you pick up a glass of water and when you’re writing something down. I watch you have to go back and erase what you wrote because your hand is too shaky to make the words legible. 

“Seeing you in my sweatshirts doesn’t even make me happy anymore because somehow they just keep getting bigger and bigger on you. I used to worship the times where I got to hold hands with you but now I’m not dumb enough to try and ignore how painful your fingertips are when they touch me. It’s like pressing and holding down ice cubes into my skin.”

Josh tries to take deep breaths and dares to glance up at Tyler. 

The man looks like he’s completely checked out of his own mind and body. He’s sat up wordlessly and staring at his limp hands in his lap. 

Josh doesn’t even want to hug him right now he’s so angry. Every fear he’s ever had about Tyler is surfacing and he’s got nowhere to direct his emotions other than at Tyler. 

He doesn’t even have the capacity to be mad at himself in this moment for hurting the other man because he’s just so furious at the other man for hurting himself. 

Josh’s filter is fading and he’s trying desperately to cling on to just one stipulation – don’t bring Tyler’s body into this. 

But with Josh’s words, that’s already inevitable. He wonders if that’s the only thing Tyler’s thinking about right now. 

Josh feels as if he’s stood still on a set of train tracks and the train’s now connected with him and punted him across the world like a pathetic football. 

He shuts his fucking mouth. 

The silence from Tyler is painful and Josh's hot tears keep falling and the sobs he’s making are strangled noises as his lips are forced so tightly shut. 

Tyler looks dead. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look like he’s bothering to breathe. He doesn’t blink. 

Josh brings his hands to his face and rubs desperately at his eyes. It doesn’t do anything to placate his tears. 

He wills himself to look at Tyler. 

Tyler’s body remains vacant. 

Josh takes a deep breath and shifts his body, preparing to stand up and go into Tyler’s bathroom to wash his face. 

He will refuse to look at the scale under his sink. 

As he slides from the bed, he turns his back to Tyler. He stands but can’t manage to take a step. 

Josh sits back down with his face in his hands. Lets his own body shake as the guilt begins to rear up and wreak havoc. 

Josh hears a soft intake of breath behind him. He braces himself. 

Tyler’s voice is small when he says, “I have an eating disorder, Josh.”

Terrible moment of pause and then, “I can’t help it.”

And in absolute gut-wrenching horror, he thinks he hears Tyler start to cry. 

Josh might throw up. 

He whips around to see Tyler curled in on himself, hands completely hiding his face. His skinny body is starting to tremble almost violently. 

Josh’s movement towards him dips the bed and Tyler gasps, “Please don’t touch me.”

Josh freezes but Tyler continues, “Please don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me.”

Josh knows he’s crying now. His nose sniffles and his breathing goes shallow and the small, painful gasps and intakes of air coming from his throat are somehow so quiet and yet the sounds are roaring in Josh’s ears. 

He doesn’t even know how to function as a human anymore. He feels like there’s nothing left to him. 

So he just sits and stares at the blanket on Tyler’s bed. He can’t even glance at the other man – he would feel even sicker if he did. He felt like a voyeur even being here. 

Was it better or worse to leave Tyler alone? He didn’t know. He couldn’t even piece together enough coherency to try and sort the two out anymore. 

He stays. Tyler cries in near silence. Josh feels himself ready to gag. He swallows his own spit instead. 

When the bed shifts minutely, he spares a peek as Tyler pulls at the covers of his bed and wiggles under them. 

His back is turned to Josh. 

The room no longer houses sounds of sorrow. It’s just the slow shuffle of bed sheets. Neither can hear the other breathing. There’s no more crying. 

Everything is just empty. 

When Tyler speaks, it’s so damn near inaudible Josh fears he’ll have to ask him to repeat it. 

What Josh’s brain supplies is: “I don’t want you here.” 

What Josh’s mouth chokes out is: “What?”

What Tyler repeats is: “I said, can you please come here?”

Something squeezes Josh’s throat. He feels mute. He goes to move forward but his body doesn’t understand. He stays still. 

Tyler rolls over sluggishly. Josh would rather see his eyes red from a high than red from him crying. 

But they’re the latter and Josh is the one that made him cry. He feels twisted.

He still sees the shivering of Tyler’s body and he manages to make his way up the bed. 

He feels like a child crawling. He feels disgusting. 

Tyler lifts the covers for Josh to slide under and he can see how weak Tyler’s arm is just from that motion. 

Josh scoots towards him, just a tiny bit. Tests the waters and spreads his arms out, so slightly, as a very timid invitation. 

Tyler moves into his embrace and Josh lays flat on his back so Tyler can lay his head on his chest. 

He places his hand, so fucking gently, on top of Tyler’s head. Pets his hair as lightly as he would a newborn infant. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He just asks, “Is this ok?”

Tyler does a single nod. 

Then nothing for a while

“Good night,” Tyler finally murmurs. Then he closes his eyes. 

“Good night,” Josh whispers back.


End file.
